


A Surprising Parcel

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas, M/M, Sex Toys, surprise parcel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: Mycroft gets a new toy for Christmas. He and Greg enjoy it... a lot.Only the question remains is: who sent it?





	A Surprising Parcel

Mycroft lay with Greg on the couch. The house had been decorated for Christmas, being only two days away, and so there was a calm ambience about filled with twinkled lights. Gregory had insisted that they have the fairy lights inside the house, and Mycroft had to agree he enjoyed it.

There was a knock on the door. They looked at each other.  
“Sherlock?” Greg asked.  
Mycroft shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t do us the courtesy of knocking.”  
“True.”

Greg got up, leaving his wine glass on the table. Mycroft heard the door open, but there wasn’t any subsequent conversation.  
“Who is it, darling?”  
“Just a parcel,” Greg answered as he returned to the lounge, carrying a small box. “Addressed to you. Did you order something?”  
“No.”  
“Yeah, neither. Doesn’t say where it’s from, either. Just a warehouse address.”  
“Hm, generally gifts sent in the mail include a return address with the sender’s name,” Mycroft mumbled as Greg re-joined him on the couch.

“Do you have a knife?”  
“I’m not in the habit of keeping knives on me whilst we cuddle on the couch, Gregory.”  
“Yeah yeah. Here, I’ll go get one from the kitchen.”  
“Don’t use the cooking ones!” Mycroft called out through the door after his husband.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Greg answered as he walked back into the room, a utility knife in hand.

Mycroft handed the parcel back to Greg, who slit the tape expertly and opened the box. He pulled out a smaller package, wrapped in festive wrap.  
“Definitely a gift, then. Oh, here’s a card.”  
Greg pulled out a small card. He frowned, and then passed it over to Mycroft.

_Merry Christmas ;)_

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“It means I think I have an idea what this is,” Greg answered, his voice uncertain.  
“Open it.”  
“Now? It’s not Christmas yet.”  
“Gregory.”  
“You’re the one that wouldn’t let me open the cheese you got me in France yesterday.”  
“Because it would have been consumed by this evening, leaving you nothing come Christmas morning.”  
“You got me other stuff.”  
“Indeed. You’re still not opening your cheese. But this is an uncertainty, and I must know what it is.”

Greg laughed and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “Alright, relax, love. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Maybe quite the opposite.”  
“Gifts – that are not from my brother – tend to be.”  
“Can’t rule out that it wasn’t him sending this. In fact, it’s quite possible.”

Mycroft snorted and took the package from Greg, tearing the paper off it. He stopped and could do nothing but blink when he saw the contents.  
“If it is from Sherlock, then I still can’t tell if he’s making fun or if he’s trying to be kind to you. I’d say it would be inappropriate for a sibling, but it’s _Sherlock_ …”

Mycroft just looked at the… item. _Toy_ , he told himself. The label read ‘ _Perfect Fit Hump Gear_ ’. It was somewhat clear albeit slightly opaque, the shape of a penis except for a large bulge at the bottom that his mind instantly likened to the knot on a dog’s penis ( _why, brain?_ ), with an elongated curved base.

“If this is my brother’s idea of a joke, he is going to need us to send him a coat.”  
“Walk me through it, love,” Greg said gently, taking the toy out of his hands.  
“It gets cold in Siberia,” Mycroft answered through gritted teeth.  
Greg chuckled. “At least you don’t want him to freeze to death. But it may not be him. And if it is, he may honestly think you’d like it and not have the social filter to realise you don’t give sex toys to your brother. At any rate… maybe hold off on the deporting until you’ve tried it? Looks like it could be _very_ fun, actually…”

Mycroft looked at Greg, mortified. Greg’s voice had dropped in register and gone husky. The arousal was clear in his face. Mycroft remained looking at him, the mortification still on his own, but mixed in with shock, some hesitation, curiosity, and undoubtedly a fair amount of arousal himself. He couldn’t help but imagine how they’d use the toy, nor deny how enticing it sounded.

“You, uh, you want to, um…” Greg’s voice trailed off and he flickered his eyes in the direction of the bedroom.  
Mycroft swallowed. The wine was still coursing through his system, making his body rather suggestible. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been planning the evening ending up there, anyway.

Greg smiled slyly at him, standing, and reaching his hand out. “I think this could be just the ticket.”  
Mycroft tilted his head, but took the proffered hand and stood.  
“Well, you are very sensitive there, but enjoy me pounding you. Could be a solution.”

Mycroft was sure he flushed a deeper red at his husband’s bluntness. Gregory laughed, and kissed him. “I can tell you’re interested now.”  
“I was before,” Mycroft admitted.

Upstairs, Greg kissed him passionately, letting his hands wander over Mycroft’s body. Tingles ran up and down his spine as Greg slid his fingers over his front, slowly slipping under his jumper. The shirt came off with the woollen garment, leaving Mycroft bare chested.

Greg shed himself of his shirt before leaning in and licking at Mycroft’s neck. His tongue drifted up to his ear, and Mycroft moaned. The rest of their clothes were shed, the fabric teasing the skin as their pants fell to the floor.

He pressed his body into Gregory’s, sharp jolts spreading from his cock as it pressed into his husband’s. Greg’s breath was hot on his skin; tantalising to feel and hear. A gentle shove, playful, and Mycroft was laying on the bed.

Gregory knelt over him. Wet kisses on his lips, a dance of tongues, and the whisper of touch over his cock from Gregory’s member hovering over his own. Quiet moans of pleasure escaped his lips as Greg moved his mouth over to his ear and down his neck.

Mycroft slid his hands up, grasping his husband. Silky silver hair through his fingers and firm muscle tone of Greg’s back, he pulled him down to lay upon his body.

The heat of skin on skin burned, flaring his desire to writhe for friction. _Yes, Greg, oh yes, move on me…_

Another groan as Greg slid lower, his tongue licking a stripe down his sternum and over a nipple. Mycroft held tighter onto the silver head to hold him there. Greg lapped and sucked, the sensation spreading out through his chest.

Mycroft closed his eyes and simply felt Greg’s ministrations. The other nipple now, the previous one tingling from the cool air. Greg’s breath hot on his skin, yet cold on the wet nipple he released from his mouth – the clash sending his senses into overload.

“Mmm, fuck you’re gorgeous,” Greg murmured, his voice close to Mycroft’s ear.  
“Gregory, oh, so good.” Mycroft tilted his head back to allow his husband to kiss more of his neck.  
“Want you.”  
“I want you too.” _So much,_ Mycroft thought. 

Greg lifted himself up off Mycroft’s body. He looked up at the smiling face above him, and moved up for another kiss. He bucked his hips, desperately searching for contact. When none came, he tried again, groaning.

“I need you,” he breathed. “Please.”  
“I love it when you beg,” Greg’s husky voice whispered. He nosed Mycroft’s nose. “My powerful man, begging me to touch him.”  
“All yours.”  
“Yes,” Gregory intoned. He then lifted his hand and ran a finger down Mycroft’s chest, barely ghosting the skin. “Mine to do with as I wish.”  
“Yes.” _Always. All yours. Take me, Greg._

Greg grinned slyly at him, and then sat back. Mycroft’s chest squeezed as if Greg was taking the air from his lungs along with him.

Another moan as strong hands slid down his chest, stimulating his skin but the pressure reassuring him. His abdominals tensed as the hands slid further, pressing into the soft flesh of his belly, the thumbs stroking just over his pelvis. His cock pulsed expectantly, but Greg kept his hands there.

A frustrated growl escaped his lips as Greg’s hands made their way upward again. One hand rested in the middle of his chest, possessive. _Fuck yes, that’s right, love._ The other slowly began trailing downwards once more, firing his neurons as it went.

“Please,” he begged again, and stretched out. He closed his eyes again. He was panting, desperate. Greg chuckled in amusement. Mycroft could feel the twitch of Greg’s cock against his thigh, though, showing just how enticing his husband found his begging.

“I’m gonna enjoy opening my Christmas present,” Greg sung. “Opening him up nice and wide,” he added, his voice silk on fire.

Mycroft’s breath hitched in his throat. _Yes, oh lord, yes. Now._ He thrusted forward again, instinctively presenting himself. It was pure want, his entrance tingling in anticipation. He kept panting, impatient at Gregory’s restraint.

Sudden lips on his thighs, tongue licking up towards his bollocks… _Jesus, Greg, more.  
_“Keep your eyes closed.”

Mycroft had no issue obeying. His body thrummed with energy, and reducing one sense only helped process the overwhelming sensations coming from his others. He clawed at the bed, bunching the soft fabric. _I can’t touch myself. I can’t. Gregory has to give permission._ His cock throbbed again at that thought.

“Aren’t you good, resisting yourself? You should get a little treat for that.” Greg then took one of his bollocks in his mouth and gently sucked.

“God!” Mycroft cried out, his belly tensing. He panted hard. The tugging sensation lasted only briefly, mixed with that enthralling mix of pleasure and pain that only worked him up more. Suddenly the other received the same treatment, causing Mycroft to hum. _Yes, oh that’s nice._

Warm, round pleasure radiated out through the centre of his body as Greg pressed into his perineum. The man’s thumb swirled and pressed, filling Mycroft’s chest with a placid enjoyment. It was so different to the sharp pleasure just moments ago.

His cock still ached, neglected. He could feel the wetness on his belly from pre-come leaking. _Don’t. Touch._ The sheets were going to need a good ironing.

Tingling, delicate shocks radiated out from his entrance. A calloused finger started rubbing circles around the sensitive muscle. Mycroft bore down on it, to no avail. Gregory backed further away. Mycroft whined.

“Just getting the lube, love,” Gregory informed him. “Look at you. Such a conundrum for Santa this year,” Greg hummed as he pulled the draw open. “Being so good, but you’re definitely a naughty boy.”

Mycroft swallowed. It was torture, pure exquisite torture. _Stop teasing and fuck me, Greg._  
“I know what that look means,” Greg said as he returned, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s lips. “You’re desperate for me to fill you. You want me to stop playing and pound you into the mattress.”  
“Yes,” Mycroft breathed, his throat half-closed from the tension that all his muscles held. He could feel himself shaking. “Please Greg, I need you so badly… I need you to touch me. Fuck me. I need to feel you.”  
“Holy fucking Jesus you know how to beg,” Greg moaned. “You’ll make me come with just your voice, wrapped around me like that, all velvet and cream.”

Mycroft’s body jerked at the mention of cream, much as he thought Greg expected.  
“You can bring a country to its knees with that voice… how do you expect me to cope? But I’m not the one dropping to his knees. Turn over.”

Mycroft did so immediately. His face in the pillow, air was hard to suck in, but he enjoyed the sounds of his own heavy breathing in his ears.  
“On your knees. I thought I made that clear.”  
“Yes sir,” Mycroft responded.  
“Fucking hell,” Greg cursed under his breath.

_Oh yes, oh…_ lubed fingers slid into him. The sensation was sharp, a raw jolt, but filling. Intense spikes made his muscle contract as Greg moved his fingers in and out. Suddenly a tantalizing feeling, a gentle slap, on the front of his bollocks. The same warm sensation spread through him as he instinctively thrust his hips, the slap of skin on skin sounding again.

Greg continued to move his fingers while swaying his bollocks back and forth with blissful taps, his hand like a fleshy paddle. Mycroft panted and groaned as he rocked, still yearning for that hand to move forward and grasp his member.

Then… absence. Fingers removed from him, Mycroft was left waiting, frozen, thrumming, anticipant. A soft bulge pressed against his slick hole, leaving him aching to press back and engulf the toy. His heart hammered loudly in his chest as he waited.

Pressure, and then fullness. It was large, but soft, yielding to his muscle enough for comfort. There was a beat where nothing happened, and then sensations exploded.

“God, Greg,” he shouted, hand finally grasped around his cock. He quivered as he tried to thrust, raw, fervid pleasure overwhelming him.  
“Oh, gorgeous, you are so hard,” Greg cooed from behind him. “And you’ve taken the whole toy, base and all.”

Mycroft panted loudly. Pound, pound, pound… his heart hammered, his cock pulsed, and he could feel the intrusion lodged firmly inside him yet it wasn’t unwelcome.

Greg stroked him a few more times. Sensation built quickly as he lavishly thrust into his husband’s hand. _More. More… I need… close, getting close…_

Painfully the sensation stopped. Greg moved back. Disappointment only lasted a moment; a hard pressure against his hole and a loud cry from Greg, and then he was overwhelmingly full. He shouted out along with his husband.

“Oh lord, yes, that’s… so full, oh,” he babbled.  
“Not painful?”  
“No, it’s,” he gasped for air, “magnificent.”  
“I can’t last like this, love,” Greg breathily groaned.  
“Don’t. Fuck me hard, Greg.”

Pound, pound… Greg snapped his hips forcefully, his rhythm quick. Greg’s cock slid freely inside him, only the blissful sensation of fullness encasing him without the sharp reminders from his muscle protesting.

_There._ “Yes,” he cried, “there. Again. More. Greg.”

Greg ground harder into him, hitting right _there_ over and over again. Hands grasped his hips, fingers digging into flesh. Breathy cries behind him, and in his ears from his own noises. Slapping of sweaty skin.

“Myc… gonna… My… yes, oh, yes, fuck, ahrrhh.” Greg shouted loudly, stilling his movements and holding Mycroft in a vice grip.

Panting, desperate, shaking, heart pounding… Mycroft couldn’t feel the pulsing he knew was there, filling him with Greg’s come. _Oh fill me, Greg…_

He lifted a hand, stilling. “Please,” he begged, raspy.  
“Yes,” Greg groaned.  
Mycroft moved and finally… _finally_ … took himself and stroked vigorously.

“Oh,” he moaned, pressure building. Greg was still lodged firmly inside him; he clenched around his husband’s cock as he approached his climax.

His throat closed, muffling his scream, as he spilled himself. Semen coated his hand and ran down the skin. His body tensed, desperate to squeeze out as much ejaculate as possible in rolling waves of pleasure.

Pulse, pulse... _yes oh my yes…_ panting, shaking, unable to keep himself up much longer, Mycroft moaned. Gregory pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside him. Mycroft relinquished the last vestiges of control and dropped where he was.

It took minutes, at least he assumed so, before he could open his eyes and look at his husband’s worn, spent, euphoric face. Greg smiled at him lazily, and kissed him.

Sudden sensations caused him to gulp and heave. Greg pulled the toy out of him and dropped it to the floor.  
“I’d say that was a good gift,” he rasped. “Amazing, really.”  
“Yeah,” Mycroft agreed. He still was trying to catch his breath. “I loved it.”  
“No Siberia?” Greg asked with a chuckle.  
Mycroft huffed and rolled his eyes. “No. In fact, I’d send him a box of his favourite chocolates along with his gift for Christmas as a thank you.”  
“Oh, liked it that much, eh?”  
“You have no idea,” Mycroft uttered, still floating.  
“You can show me later, then,” Greg said, wiggling his eyebrows.

~

 

Sherlock was holding his Christmas party early, as a lunch on Christmas eve. Greg was pleased, since it meant that they could spend some time with John and Sherlock for Christmas but have a nice relaxing Christmas Day together.

Mycroft was comfortable chatting with Sherlock on the sofa, leaving Greg to stand with John over at the mantle.  
“Mate. Possibly an awkward question,” Greg said.  
“Hm? There’s little left to be awkward between us, Greg, now.”  
“True. Well… do you know if Sherlock sent Mycroft an early Christmas present?”  
“Um, not that I know of?”  
“Not… something possibly intended as a joke? Or maybe an inappropriate gift that he thought Mycroft might actually really like but never buy himself?”

John quirked his head and looked at him. “What are you asking me, Greg?”  
“Did Sherlock send Mycroft an anal sex toy for Christmas?”

It was a good thing that John hadn’t taken a drink of his beer, since he spluttered on just the air. He then turned red.  
“What? No. He wouldn’t keep something like _that_ from me, I’m sure.”  
“Oh. Ok. Just… we received a parcel yesterday, addressed to Myc, but with no sender. It was… well, it was fucking amazing, actually. Sherlock was the only one we could think of who’d have the balls to send a sex toy as a gift to Mycroft.”

John burst out laughing and shook his head.  
“What?” Greg asked. Mycroft and Sherlock turned to look at him.  
“Mate,” John managed to wrangle out between breaths. “It’s you.”  
“What is?”  
“ _You_ sent that gift. Don’t you remember? You, Stamford and I were out drinking?”

“No?” Greg suddenly felt uneasy.  
“We were out drinking. To be fair you’d had a bit. Mike lets out that he’s curious about sex with men, and so you decide it’s a great idea to drag us off to a gay bar.”  
“Ergh,” Greg moaned, rubbing his face, embarrassed. “I’m not gonna like this story, am I?”  
“Nah, it’s fairly fine. You got hit on, but you said you were married. That just made the bloke more excited, actually, and you started talking about sex toys. He suggested one that you thought Myc’d love, and so you pulled out your phone and ordered it then and there. You were insistent on making it a surprise so had the invoice sent to _me_ and just the Christmas-wrapped present to Mycroft.”

Greg stood, frozen, blinking. He figured that could have gone a lot worse, and so shrugged. “Good. Solves that question then.”  
“So… it was good, was it?” John asked, clearing his throat.  
Greg looked at him with a sly grin. “You have the invoice. Order another as a new year’s gift. You won’t regret it.”  
John just took a swig from his drink, and Greg chuckled, knowing what John was going to do once he and Myc left.

“What are you two yabbering about over there?” Sherlock snapped.  
“You’ll find out,” Greg responded, and sent Mycroft a knowing look before returning his gaze to Sherlock. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
